1/15/2008

PV

Down. 1.Down. 2.Down. 3.

Gym class was no one’s favorite, especially not in middle school. Oh, the embarrassment of changing in front of the other girls in the locker room. Forget it if you were fat. Or thin. Or too pale. Or with fake tan lines. Or wore the ‘Sunday’ undies on Wednesday. Or if your boob slipped out while bending over to put on your friend’s shorts that you’re borrowing for the day because you forgot yours at home and this is your third strike before you’d have to come to run laps in the morning at 7am. Forget it.

Down. 4.Down. 5.Down. 6.

You’re half asleep because, I dunno, it’s first period and now you’re sitting in your perfect lines graphed out by the basketball court boundaries, on a dirty floor that smells like varnish. God, please no squats today. Jumping jacks were always first, which was fine for someone as flat-chested as I was. I felt bad for Jessica Hardaker. She was simply a set of big bouncy tits, 90% of the time. The other 10% of the time, she was a giant cunt bitch. (yeah, I said the c-word)

Down. 7.Down. 8.Down. 9.Down. 10.

Lunges were cake. You could practically fall asleep leaning over your knee. As far as I was concerned, there was no physical benefit to lunges. Stretching was easy too. Being at the beginning of the alphabet has its advantages. Namely, not having to see half my classmates bent over, striving (ok not really) to touch their toes. Then again, I guess they had to deal with me. Which is their problem (I didn’t see it that way then).

Now do that 20 times. Fill a gym with kids doing it at the same time and you’d swear you were in the middle of an orchestrated stampede. Oh, and if Coach feels like a dick that day, you can hold position 3, elbows bent, for a bit.

Down. 11.Down. 12.

Crunches were whatever. Some of the nerdier kids would curl up and look like wiggling meal worms, pale and floundering.

Down. 13.Down. 14.

Push ups were always last and there were no girl push ups in Coach Grymko’s class. (Coach Grymko looked like Wario in a sweat suit) I’ve never done a pull up so my push ups weren’t so snazzy either. My sinewy arms usually bowed outwards, bringing my chin down to an inch above the floor.

“Bloomer! Elbows”

This is warning number one. If you were really lazy that day, you’d have to redo them in front of everyone. Alone. Because then, and maybe only then, your form would be perfect- your back as straight as an arrow, elbows at right angles, and eyes forward, cheeks flushed (whether from embarrassment or actual physical strain, it doesn’t really matter)

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Me, me, me

I’m a t-rex in reading specks, wearing Monday’s undies on Sundays. I’m a strip mall superplex, drawn to the regression of y on x. The first thing I do in the morning is squint. The last thing I do at night is blink. And in between, I’m the cupcake mix mistress, a veritable dame. Call me Madam- I punnish puntificating puny puns with punderful punitive punderment.
I’ll meet your tacky toes with a tic, turn it inside out, make a limerick. Frame hullabaloos in haikus, adjust so it’s in my camera’s view. Ready. Aim. Take the picture. There. A thousand words like scripture, but really it’s just my friends. And this is us making dinner. And this is us in bathing suits, overseas clenched teeth grin saying “cheese!”
I got more mass than the Vatican City, sitting pretty, flowers tucked behind ears. Bring it down closer, now you can hear.
Yours unduly,
JaiBee